Sweet Sin | Stefn Sylvester Anyatonwu

POEM 162: SWEET SIN

With unholy fury, two soles hurry

into a dimly lit enclave,

and like sinful souls speeding to hell's abyss,

they get rid of senses and fabrics,

panting like a troubadour athirst,

gasping for pleasure like air.

Love-making, they call it,

a failing and rising of hip-sters

to the humming and moaning of soundtracks.

She gives in to the pain of a first time,

pangs embracing everlasting bliss

in a matrimony, unholy.

True, it sublime it is,

but don't you think 'tis sin?

Beyond the phallic and vulva quest

are selfish desires we could put to rest.

We could of this hormonal unrest

fly moral flags in swift conquest,

hold hands in solemn quietness

and sing sacred songs and solos

until our carnal-clothed souls,

in virtues halved and luster spiced

be joined in sinful wholes,

in a matrimony, holy.

Wait!

It's worth it!

Processional hymns,

exchanges of rings,

vows that bind and kisses that are real,

should echo the herald of this permitted sin.

Cherubs, we ought to be in the arms of God,

Aphrodite, we'd rather be in each other's arms;

our souls unclad,

our sanity hurl aside,

our sensuality flawed,

for the allure we've seen?

for the sweet taste of sin?

As sweet as sin, this is

it tastes even sweeter in matrimony.

Wait!

- Stefn Sylvester Anyatonwu

#365DaysOfPoetry

#Pengician

#SSA

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